Magic Blows
by Beckles1987
Summary: More than two weeks after Curran stood her up, an injured Kate intends to pack her bags and leave town. But an intruder in her house has less pleasant plans. AU after the Magic Bleeds prologue. NOW UPDATED AND REVISED!
1. Boxers' Fracture

**Title: Boxers' Fracture**  
**Rating: T for language.**  
**Summary: Hurt in more ways that one, Kate returns home from the hospital to find an uninvited visitor in her Savannah home.**  
**Pairing: Cannon pairings mentioned.**  
**Disclaimer: I own it all, by which I mean a copy of Magic Bites, Magic Burns, Magic Strikes, Must Love Hellhounds, Magic Bleeds, and Dark and Stormy Knights...Hexed and Magic Slays are on pre-order.**

**The first three chapters of this story have been overhauled so it might be a good idea to read the whole thing again...and it has been over a year since I updated. Bad Beckles. *gives self Gibbs headslap*  
**

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November 31st - more than two weeks after the dinner that never was

According to the medmage at Northside, I'd fractured the distal end of my left fifth metacarpal. Boxers' fracture. The doctor blamed the punching bag. I blamed Curran.

Bastard.

There had been no word from him, apologetic or otherwise, and, barring Andrea, I'd seen neither hide nor hair of a shapeshifter since Doctor Dolittle reluctantly discharged me from his care after my latest brush with death courtesy of the rakshasas. Something was going on. It had to be. Curran wanted in my pants too much to stand me up. Something had changed and now none of the few friends I'd made despite myself were talking to me. Not only had the pie-stealing psychopath decided to cut all his ties with me he'd cut the ties I had to the Pack. Derek, Jim, Dali, Raphael, Aunt B…hell at this point having Doolittle faking hurt at me being seen by another medmage would be welcome.

To make matters worse, Andrea, my closest friend, had been…not herself, distant. But that could have been down to the fact that she now knew more about me than anybody else on the planet. She knew about the rot in my family tree and it was more than enough to get her killed. Death by uncontrolled vampire was bad enough but death by Roland would involve unimaginable pain. Even Andrea telling him everything she knew, including the secret ingredient in the special sauce, wouldn't make any difference, not that she'd betray me. Andrea would die horribly because it would hurt me, weaken me. The moment Hugh d'Ambray found out she was my best friend, she was a weapon to be used against me. Like I wasn't hurt enough already.

The splint holding my little and ring fingers together was already irritating me. Saying it was uncomfortable to drive in was a serious understatement. I wanted to take it off but I couldn't afford to lose even the smallest amount of strength, flexibility or movement in my hand, even if it wasn't my sword hand.

I couldn't afford weaknesses of any kind…magical, physical or emotional. The bitch of it was that I had all three and all three could be attributed to the Beast Lord. I'd outed myself in front of Roland's Warlord to save his furry ass, broken my hand hitting the punching bag I'd been imagining his face on and as for the emotional stuff…the less I thought about it the less likely I was to break my other hand or do something completely ridiculous…like cry.

Caring whether he lived or died was caring too much. Caring whether or not he was planning to apologise for standing me up…never mind trying not to agonise over him possibly not wanting me anymore…well that was caring to an almost suicidal degree.

Not to mention the fact if his furry high(handed)ness ever found out whose blood I carried in my veins he'd either keep the Pack safe by banning everybody in it, including himself, from having anything to do with me…which given the amount of contact I'd had with them lately he might have already done…or do something monumentally stupid like trying to protect me from the most powerful man on the planet. There was always the chance that he would try to use me to gain power but I didn't think him capable of handing me over to Roland even if the Pack would benefit in some way. A beast he might have been but he wasn't a monster and he wasn't stupid enough to think anything he did could take the Pack off Roland's hit list.

I parked Betsi automatically, realising that I'd spent the entire journey thinking about that damn cat. It was something of a minor miracle that I hadn't run anybody over or crashed the car. Shaking my head in a vain attempt to clear it of thoughts, I walked over to the house and considered drinking the bottle of Boone's Farm sangria I'd been saving.

Cool air hit me as I opened the door but the house wasn't as welcoming as it used to be. It wasn't a safe haven anymore. Even out of the city and away from the casino I was always on the alert for vampires at my window or worse waiting for me inside. The notion of running away had become increasingly appealing. Leaving town would solve more than one problem.

The wards, the strongest I knew, should have kept out everybody except god and Roland but magic had fallen the night before so it was with a creeping sense of unease that I entered the kitchen. I wasn't alone. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me. There was somebody in my house but I'd never been lonelier. Of course a fight for my life would stop me dwelling on such depressing thoughts.

Slayer was in my right hand, smoking and dripping the liquid that never made it to the floor as I quietly went room to room, searching for the intruder. It wasn't a vampire, there was no instinctive wave of revulsion that always signalled the presence of a undead. Something else had broken in to my house, something powerful and clever enough to be a serious risk to my health.

Roland's Warlord was probably capable of breaking in. When we met I'd had the insane urge to fight him, to see which of my father's pupils was the better swordmaster but I was at a disadvantage now. I had my words of power but I didn't want to let on how many I knew, which was kind of dumb seeing as he'd already seen me perform serious magic, but if he underestimated me I had a chance at survival.

Who was I kidding? Tech was up and without a fully functioning left hand I was probably dead already.

The bedroom door loomed large in front of me. It was the only room I hadn't checked. Sweat trickled down my spine. I wanted to wipe it with the back of my shirt. I couldn't, not with my left hand and there was no way I was putting my only weapon down. Damn Curran.

I was definitely a dog person from now on.

With Slayer raised and ready, I gripped the doorknob with the functioning digits of my left hand and paused.

_If I die Curran had better not blow off my damn funeral._

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_**Please review if you haven't already, and if you have...tell me what you think of the changes via PM or anonymous review. :)**_  
_


	2. Only an Idiot

**Title: Only an Idiot**  
**Rating: T for language.**  
**Summary: Kate discovers the identity of the intruder, it's her worst case scenario.**  
**Pairing: Cannon pairings mentioned.**  
**Disclaimer: I own it all, by which I mean a copy of Magic Bites, Magic Burns, Magic Strikes, Must Love Hellhounds, Magic Bleeds, and Dark and Stormy Knights...Hexed and Magic Slays are on pre-order.**

**The first three chapters of this story have been overhauled so it might be a good idea to read the whole thing again...and it has been over a year since I updated. Bad Beckles. *gives self Gibbs headslap***

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I cracked the door open and listened for any signs of life, having already ruled out unlife. Whoever was in my room was doing a fine job of sounding like they weren't there. I knew better. I pushed it the rest of the way open with my foot and entered sideways, seeing no sense in giving whoever it was an easy shot at my chest.

I'd been expecting Hugh d'Ambray…but that wasn't who was standing by my bed like he belonged there. The rush of relief and gratitude quickly turned to disbelief and anger.

Curran. In my house. Waiting for me _in my bedroom_. I took back what I'd thought about the cleverness of my previously unknown intruder. Only an idiot would break into the house of the woman he'd seriously pissed off and wait in her bedroom. If he was expecting an apology to get him in my bed he could forget it. If 'I'm sorry' weren't the first words out of his mouth he could forget getting there at all.

For a long moment I stared at him with the blade still raised, my face revealing nothing. He was wearing the same clothes he wore when we first met, the sweats and t shirt that seemed to live and multiply in every drawer in the Keep, clothes he wouldn't care about shifting in.

He was prepared to turn into a lion…or worse, his warrior form. _Crap._

I didn't move. I didn't want this fight to happen. One, I was pretty sure I would lose; two, even if I won I wouldn't gain anything and three, even though I was supremely pissed at Curran, I didn't want to do him even semi-permanent damage, never mind kill him.

Curran didn't move either. He just stood there with the stillness peculiar to cats and gave me his blank-face. He could have been angry, sad or constipated for all I knew. The only thing I was sure of was that there were no gold flecks dancing in those grey eyes of his.

When no attack came, I sheathed the sword and turned my back on him, walking over to the chest of drawers and dragging out the half packed bag that had sat under it since I realised making a speedy getaway might be necessary.

Curran didn't like being ignored and turning my back on him would definitely be taken as a sign of disrespect. Oh well. Now that I was sure he posed no immediate physical threat, catering to his mood and fragile ego wasn't something I felt like doing. My last attempt at catering hadn't exactly been appreciated.

Surveying the contents of my closet would have scared most women, aside from the boring functionality of my clothes, there were nearly more weapons than outfits. Then again, when you live the kind of life where survival is a full time job, being armed is more important than being clothed. If given the choice between weapons and clothing I'd go naked every time.

I'd still have to go to Greg's apartment for some more weapons before I left town. Apart from the ones I didn't want to leave behind, there were those that I really shouldn't let fall into other hands. Roland wasn't the only one with special toys…not that mine were as special as his. Of course I couldn't do anything until I'd lost my furry stalker and that was easier said than done.

There was nothing in the closet I'd miss except for the daggers. There were eight of them, tailor made to fit on my upper and lower arms and legs, and they had the highest silver content possible. The custom sheathes were enchanted leather, so tough they were practically armour and impossible to take off mid-battle. They had been a fiendishly expensive gift from my father. He'd wanted me safe no matter what the cost.

Curran continued to watch me in silence. I'd come to realise that humans are far less patient than cats and I knew I was going to break and speak to him long before he condescended to talk to me. That being said, there was no overriding human instinct to be nice…or even civil.

"Breaking and entering is a crime Your Majesty. If you wish to make an appointment, feel free to contact Maxine at the chapter house." He said nothing but it was a loud unimpressed nothing. I carried on packing. It was definitely time to go, head to one of the cities over the state border, Birmingham maybe…or Chattanooga, somewhere close enough for me to keep an eye on Julie. "Stalking and harassment are also illegal." Not that he'd been noticeably stalking or harassing me lately.

I took one of the daggers out of its sheath and examined the blade, careful to avoid the edge. The blades were bloodthirsty; the more blood they spilt the more they were capable of spilling. I'd killed a man with one of them in Hoyo de Sangre. I'd sliced his thigh…maybe four inches long, half an inch deep. He'd bled out in minutes and I hadn't hit any major blood vessels. The magic of the dagger had drawn the blood from his body faster than I'd believed possible. My father had made me put all eight in the crimson pool around the man's still warm corpse. The blades had drunk deep, draining the power from his blood until it was just black dust, even the patches on my clothes. It was my bloodiest kill to date. Not the goriest though.

My handling of the dagger had drawn Curran's attention to my hands, specifically the left one with its oh-so-attractive white splint.

"You're hurt." Was there a note of concern in his voice or was I hearing things? I didn't know anymore.

"You're observant." Sarcasm thick enough to walk on.

"What happened?" _So you're pretending you're bothered are you?_

"After two weeks of beating a punching bag three hours a day, I eventually broke my hand on your face." A spark of amusement seemed to light up Curran's eyes and there was the ghost of a smirk haunting his lips but they were both gone a moment later and he was back to blank seriousness, which added a new layer to my bad mood on its own.

I gritted my teeth, took the lion by the horn and asked the question that had been burning a hole in my chest since discovering that it was his furriness in my house and not an axe/gun/sword/bow/vampire-wielding murderer.

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**Please review if you haven't already, and if you have...tell me what you think of the changes via PM or anonymous review. :)**_  
_


	3. Must Be Tuesday

**Title: Must Be Tuesday**  
**Rating: T for language.**  
**Summary: Surprise, surprise, they're arguing.**  
**Pairing: Cannon pairings mentioned.**  
**Disclaimer: I own it all, by which I mean a copy of Magic Bites, Magic Burns, Magic Strikes, Must Love Hellhounds, Magic Bleeds, and Dark and Stormy Knights...Hexed and Magic Slays are on pre-order.**

**The first three chapters of this story have been overhauled so it might be a good idea to read the whole thing again...and it has been over a year since I updated. Bad Beckles. *gives self Gibbs headslap*

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"Why are you even here?" I tried very hard to sound like I didn't care. Who knows, I might even have succeeded

"Your life is in danger." It was hardly news to me. I'd been living on borrowed time since I was born.

"It must be Tuesday." Or any other day of the week really.

"Are you always this flippant when somebody wants you dead?" I put the daggers on the bed next to the holdall. Being stabbed in the back while rooting through my underwear in search of a weapon wasn't the way I wanted to die. The bloodthirsty blades would be packed last.

"What can I say, you bring out the best in me. Now get out of my house and please, please don't come back."

"Why are you so mad at me?" _Are you kidding me?_

"Among other things…you're fifteen days late and I'm all out of pie." I'd cared too much about the date that never was, taken his absence and lack of explanation or apology to heart. I'd probably reacted the way an alpha female shifter would react after her food was rejected. His expression changed, softened slightly into something less angry, as if he was only just realising he'd hurt me more than he'd pissed me off. I didn't care. I really didn't. It wasn't his behaviour I despaired of.

"When I didn't show up for dinner, I was-" I didn't care what he was. I cut him off before the next word formed, giving him my back again and going through the chest of drawers just in case there was something I'd missed. Unlikely, but it was excuse enough to avoid eye contact. I didn't know what I'd see in Curran's eyes and I was almost afraid of what he'd see in mine.

"Don't flatter yourself Curran. It's me I'm pissed at. I should have known better. I shouldn't have convinced myself that you weren't playing games anymore. Well congratulations Your Highness. You won. I waited for four hours in my goddamn underwear." I illustrated my point by shoving a handful of panties into the holdall I'd unceremoniously dumped on the bed beside him and giving him a glare that would have withered a cactus. He opened his mouth to say something else but for once he was in the company of somebody who didn't exist only to obey him, far from it. Everybody else I knew practically lived to make him happy. I didn't. At that moment I wanted to hurt him. I was feeling the kind of hurt and anger that wanted to be spread. Never let it be said that I never give in to my feelings.

"You know, I hope you sent Derek or another one of your furry stooges to spy on me again. I hate to think that you missed a second of my humiliation, I know how you enjoy it. Just in case you didn't send one of your adoring minions, here's how my day went. Got up, got ready, went out bought food, bought _condoms_, came home, cooked food, undressed, put make-up on and I waited…and waited…and waited…began to worry, called the Keep, got nowhere, got pissed, dressed, went to the gym, worked out, was flirted with by refreshingly normal man, had coffee with him and then I kissed him…wait, that part wasn't humiliating." I gave Curran a vindictive smile. "Would you like me to carry on?"

"I've heard enough." I bet he had. Territorial jerk. It served him right. If he had showed up for dinner he wouldn't have to think about what I did with another man. Yes it was petty and even a little cruel but I was sick of his games and more than able to play my own. Let him wonder if I used the condoms I'd bought for us with somebody else.

"If you're done here then by all means don't hesitate to let the door hit you on the ass on the way out."

"I'm not leaving…" my right hand twitched almost imperceptibly, wanting to be gripping Slayer's hilt so I could deal with the frustrating feline, he noticed of course, "…and you're in no shape to make me, not that you ever could."

"Fine. Stay. I'll leave. I was going tonight anyway, might as well go now." After reaching for my bag I realised that he'd beaten me to the punch, although this time not literally. Instead of grabbing the handles of the holdall I'd grabbed his hand. It might have been pleasant under vastly different circumstances, as things stood, it was just awkward and annoying. I let go like the touch of his skin caused me pain. It didn't take much imagination.

"What are you doing?" He rose from my bed and made for the door.

"Carrying your bag to my car. You should have your sword hand free. Just in case." The fact that he was implying I didn't know how to take care of myself took its place at the end of the constantly growing list of things that made me want to buy whoever broke his nose a drink or twenty

"I'm not going anywhere with_ you_."

"You don't have a choice." Yes I did. As long as I was free of Lyc-V I had the choice of ignoring him, disobeying him, even telling him to go fuck himself. The first was impossible, the second would be difficult to achieve unscathed…but the third, it was pretty tempting.

"Who died and made you my Lord and Master?"

"Your guardian." That was a low blow. I blinked as the pain of Greg's death flared momentarily. When it was back at a manageable level I added a little venom to my retort.

"No he didn't. You are the exactly the kind of person he would want me to avoid." A muscle in his jaw clenched.

"Are you calling me a liar?" There was something hard in his voice, something rougher and more primal than steel. I had to tread carefully. Calling the Beast Lord a liar to his face would not go down well, a little mental editing was in order.

"I'm saying it's unlikely in the extreme. He taught me to go unnoticed. A member of the Order moving into the Keep won't go unnoticed."

"You've been noticed already. You ate the Scarlet Star." I winced internally. Curran knowing that was tantamount to him knowing who I was. It had been enough for Andrea. I could only pray that Curran didn't know why I'd been able to destroy Roland's sword.

"What did Greg say to you about me?" There was sufficient emotion in my voice to lead him away from the topic I was desperate to avoid. What emotion it was I couldn't say.

"Aside from the fact that he had an estranged ward he didn't say anything about you directly." He was using his calm and vaguely bored Beast Lord voice, I fought the urge to groan. Getting information from Curran was like pulling teeth.

"Indirectly?"

"He was very good at his job, very…discrete. When I said the Pack and I owed him a debt of thanks, our helping you was his chosen method of repayment." I didn't know whether to be worried or grateful. Greg had always been careful but this just seemed too uncharacteristic. Throwing me to the wolves, Boudas and assorted cats of the Pack wasn't something I could ever envisage him doing.

"What did you agree to exactly?"

"That in the event of his death…should I or the Pack find you or should you come to us in dire need, we are to give you any assistance I deem appropriate." Great. Greg had negotiated what he probably thought would be a one-off use of Doolittle's services and Curran was using it as an excuse to stick his be-whiskered nose into my life and order me about.

"Just so you know…pretty much everything you've ever said or done in regards to me…not appropriate." His eyes glinted gold and the corner of his mouth lifted as he seemed to remember the more inappropriate things we'd done in the past, the now forgotten and never to be repeated past.

"You can berate me for my many shortcomings in the car on the way to the Keep."

"I'm not going to the Keep." The gold was back in his eyes but there was no hint of a smile, only a barely suppressed growl.

"_The hell you aren't_."

Time for round two.

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**Please review if you haven't already, and if you have...tell me what you think of the changes via PM or anonymous review. :)**_  
_


	4. Round Two

**Title: Round Two**  
**Rating: T for language.**  
**Summary: Curran is determined to take Kate to the Keep but somebody else is just as determined that he won't**.  
**Pairing: Cannon pairings mentioned.**  
**Disclaimer: I own it all, by which I mean a copy of Magic Bites, Magic Burns, Magic Strikes, Must Love Hellhounds, Magic Bleeds, and Dark and Stormy Knights...Hexed and Magic Slays are on pre-order.**

**The first three chapters of this story have been overhauled so it might be a good idea to read the whole thing again...and it has been over a year since I updated. Bad Beckles. *gives self Gibbs headslap*

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The Beast Lord and I glared at each other from two feet away. Normally meeting his gaze was a challenge. It was nice to know some things remained the same.

"I don't trust you, I don't like you and I sure as hell don't want to move in with you. What could possibly motivate me to go with you to your fortress of doom?"

"Self-preservation."

"Unlikely."

"Julie's there."

"You kidnapped my kid! Are you insane?" Slayer had somehow materialised in my right hand, smoking in response to my anger. The tip of the sword was a hair's breadth from his throat, he'd gone too far this time.

People could fuck with me, god knows Curran was a master at it…but you did not fuck with my kid. Somebody growled. To be honest, I'm pretty sure it wasn't him.

"She's fine, Kate. Derek's with her…and at this precise moment in time, it's not my mental clarity that you should be worrying about." I glared harder as his barb hit home. I knew I was being irrational. Part of me knew that he wouldn't do anything to hurt her; the rest just wanted an excuse to stay angry at him.

"Why did you deem it necessary to remove Julie from school without telling me?" My voice never wavered, neither did Slayer.

"I wanted her where I knew she was safe." He gave me a meaningful look I chose not to analyse.

"What's wrong with the security at the school?"

"I didn't think it would keep Roland's Warlord out." The world came crashing to a halt.

Hugh d'Ambray was never getting his hands on her, not while I had breath left in my body.

How had he managed to get close enough for Curran to a, find out about it, and b, feel the need to bring her to the Keep? I had been so careful, Julie's records had been burned the day I left Jim's safe house, I hadn't visited, I hadn't called…

Slayer fell to the floor.

The very thing I'd tried so hard to prevent had been happening under my nose and I hadn't seen it. He was coming after the people I loved. My father had been right, Greg had been right…and I'd get a chance to hear them say 'I told you so' far sooner than I'd anticipated.

Fuck.

"Kate?"

"Did I say that out loud?"

"We've been under surveillance, probably since the Games…and whoever it is has decided watching isn't enough anymore. If it is the Warlord, you have information I could use."

"I don't doubt it." That may have been a slight understatement. The Beast Lord would probably have kittens if he knew the extent of the information I had on Roland's inner circle…and that was before he found out how and why I had it.

"I had hoped to avoid involving you but it's obviously not possible." Gee didn't I feel special. However, as much as I wanted to tell him to shove his problems where the sun didn't shine, my conscience and the fact that all my friends grew fur and fangs prevented me from doing it. Being a good person was damn constricting.

"Does the Pack require my services as an employee of the Order?" I forced the words out, making sure he knew that any help I gave, I gave to the Pack out of professional duty, not to him for whatever reason would boost his ego the most.

"If that's what it takes to get you to the Keep, yes."

"Fine."

"Good."

"Great."

"Wonderful." He always had to have the last word. Argumentative bastard. "Can we leave now or do you need to bitch some more?" If I didn't know Julie was waiting for me, confused and probably worried. I'd have taken the time to show Curran than my tongue was just as sharp as my sword and just as capable of inflicting injury. As things stood, he wasn't my top priority.

"You'll know when I start bitching at you Your Highness."

"I can't wait."

"Me either." I scanned the room once more, making sure there was nothing I'd overlooked and packed the bloodthirsty daggers, zipping up the bag with an ominous air of finality. Going with the Beast Lord to his castle felt a huge step, potentially in the wrong direction, and as much as I told myself it was only for one night, or at worst, until I'd killed the bad guy or girl…again, it felt like more than that.

It felt like defeat.

Once again he had me right where he wanted me, or he would have by the time we got to his impregnable bachelor pad. But this time it was worse. Instead of outwitting me into doing something I would never willingly do…like getting Jim into a potentially fatal amount of shit with him…he'd used Julie and Hugh d'Ambray, of all bloody people, to get my help and my company, both things I'd freely offered him in the past and both things he'd rejected.

His Furry Majesty had made it abundantly clear that I was little more than an amusing pastime, his version of TWT-IHFB…he was messing with my feelings, not to mention my head, and he was enjoying it. I'd been deluded, I'd been crazy and, for a few shining moments, blissfully happy, but now I was just angry and sad. Reality was not only ugly but inescapable so I had to be a big girl and get my shit together. Of course that was easier said than done. I still had that ridiculous aching need to be loved and the absurd hope Curran wasn't the asshole I knew him to be.

I used to think I knew when to cut and fucking run. Obviously not.

"There are a couple of things I need from downstairs." My body armour for one, if there was the slightest chance of Roland's Warlord being involved I wanted all the advantages I could get. There was also a set of poisoned hira-shuriken, throwing stars, with a high silver content and enough basilisk venom between them to fell the Beast Lord at least twice. Although knowing my luck the ass would probably only take a second or two to recover. Still, it was surprising what you could accomplish in two seconds if you put your mind to it.

With a glance seemingly overflowing with indulgent condescension, Curran grabbed my holdall and led the way down the stairs. He took up a post at the bottom to supervise my retrieval of the last of my arsenal from the library; his gaze moving from window to window to door like an attack was imminent. He'd always been paranoid but this was ridiculous. I shoved the hira-shuriken in a side pocket of the holdall. The body armour had its own worn backpack; I'd already shrugged it on over my jacket. I wasn't comfortable, but then I hadn't been comfortable since I'd realised I had an intruder.

"I'm done here." He was welcome to read whatever he liked into that statement but he was barely paying attention. In true feline fashion, the Beast Lord was ignoring anything he considered beneath him, which apparently included me now.

A growl started low in his throat, a flicker of movement in the yard caught my eye and I grabbed for Slayer. My window shattered in a rain of glass shards and a metal cylinder flew through the air, hissing ferociously as gas escaped. That had to be cheating. I covered my mouth and nose with my left sleeve for all the good it would do.

Curran exploded into his warrior form as my front door came away from the frame. More canisters landed at our feet. It sounded like we were surrounded by a thousand pissed off snakes. I went from laughing at that thought to the worst hangover I'd ever known in a matter of seconds. Headache, nausea, confusion, weakness…I had all that and more. Armoured men came in through the wrecked door, we met them with a roar that shook the house and a hoarse gasp from me that cut off the Beast Lord's war cry so abruptly I may as well have taken his batteries out. I would have laughed again but breathing was already enough of a challenge. At least Curran was holding his own. I could see two bodies on the floor already but knowing him there was more.

"Back door. Now!" It sounded like a fine idea…in theory. The wall was doing a brilliant job of supporting my left shoulder; I only hoped the floor would extend the same courtesy to my face when the need arose.

The world tipped sideways. I was about to find out. Reaching out I tried to find something to slow my descent, all I did was grab at the flat wall. Not remotely helpful.

I don't think I hit the floor.

The oddly comforting snarls of approaching shapeshifters were my lullaby as I drifted into unconsciousness…until somebody started shooting that is.

The guns were in my house, the cavalry was much further away.

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**Please review if you haven't already, and if you have...tell me what you think of the changes via PM or anonymous review. :)**_  
_


	5. Deja Vu

**Title: Deja Vu**  
**Rating: T for language.**  
**Summary: Kate regains consciousness in unfamiliar surroundings and has a familiar conversation.**  
**Pairing: Cannon pairings mentioned.**  
**Disclaimer: I own it all, by which I mean a copy of Magic Bites, Magic Burns, Magic Strikes, Must Love Hellhounds, Magic Bleeds, and Dark and Stormy Knights...Hexed and Magic Slays are on pre-order.**

**The first three chapters of this story have been overhauled so it might be a good idea to read the whole thing again...and it has been over a year since I updated. Bad Beckles. *gives self Gibbs headslap***

**This chapter is dedicated to Kay030.**

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I hurt. That was good, it meant I wasn't dead. Apart from that I had no clue what I'd be greeted with when I opened my eyes. Of course given my recent history, I could make some educated guesses.

Somebody was talking, maybe to me.

"'I have not known a moment in years when the sight of you did not send my heart careening against my rib cage.'"

The words were vaguely familiar but the voice was more so…female, young, upset and trying not to show it…Julie. I wanted to see her, hold her hand and tell her I would be fine but the only parts of my body that seemed to be functioning were my brain and ears.

"'I have not known a night when your visage did not accompany me to sleep. There has not been a morning when you did not flutter behind my waking eyelids…Is any of this getting through to you, Buttercup, or do you want me to go on for a while?'" Buttercup? She was reading The Princess Bride to me. My copy was on my coffee table in Atlanta and I could count on one finger the people who knew it was my favourite.

I took it as proof that he was still alive. For some stupid reason that made me absurdly happy. I was beyond help.

"'If you're teasing me, Westley, I'm just going to kill you.'" Damn fine idea. One I was tempted to try out on Curran if he carried on being nice, or his version of it. It was too damn confusing. Unfortunately, killing the Beast Lord would require me to be slightly less corpselike than I currently was.

"'How can you even dream I might be teasing?' 'Well, you haven't once said you loved me.'" No he wouldn't have, he wouldn't have made things clear by telling her how he felt, and taken all the fun out of it. I gathered what strength I had and flexed my hand. The reading stopped.

"Did you…?"

"I saw." Derek, naturally. "Keep going, she hears you." Yes she does…and any second now she's going to remember how her eyelids work.

"'That's all you need? Easy. I love you. Okay?'" Julie sniffed. Dammit, my kid was upset and I was lying in bed with my eyes shut. "'Want it louder? **I love you.** Spell it out, should I? I ell-oh-vee-ee why-oh-you. Want it backward?'" Fighting off the last vestiges of unconsciousness, I bullied my eyes into opening. The grin that lit up Julie's face didn't distract me from the tear tracks on her cheeks. I held my hand out, the Princess Bride hit the floor and all the air left my lungs in a single whoosh. Derek winced on my behalf, for a human kid she had a pretty good pounce.

I held her as tightly as I could. It wasn't long before something warm and wet dripped on to my neck…for once in my life I knew it wasn't blood.

"'You love I.'"

"What?" She pulled back, presumably to see if I was non compos mentis. I wasn't, although there were times when I wasn't sure.

"It's the next line in the book. 'I love you', backwards. Incidentally…" I didn't finish the sentence; I hoped I didn't need to. Julie started sobbing so I think she got it.

"If the magic hadn't hit you'd have died." Shit. No wonder she was crying. I looked to Derek and he nodded, she wasn't exaggerating. He let himself out of the room then, presumably to tell somebody I was awake. I was hoping for Doolittle but I wouldn't have put money on the doctor being the first person Derek reported to.

"I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. Promise."

"You were so sick…and I was scared you wouldn't wake up. So was everybody else. Especially Curran." It might have been naive of me, but I honestly didn't think anything frightened him. I didn't flatter myself that he'd be distraught at the prospect of my death either.

"Hmm. Did he shout a lot? Roar at everybody? He was probably just throwing his considerable weight around."

"He didn't shout, he was quiet, even when they were taking the bullets out." Curran was shot? A knot formed in my chest, tight and painful. I couldn't get rid of it so I had to talk around it.

"I'm fine now." The door opened but I carried on regardless. "Julie, look at me." She pulled back and looked me in the face. "I'm fine. Don't I look fine?" I gave her my best reassuring smile. It didn't really work.

"You look remarkably well for somebody who inhaled the amount of hydrogen cyanide that you did, but no, you do not look fine," Doolittle said, in the exasperated tone he reserved for his repeat customers.

"Thanks Doc." I supposed it was better than being told I look like shit, although that was probably coming, assuming Curran deigned to make an appearance. He took a seat on the overstuffed white sofa that had been pulled close to the bed. If his furriness was going to tell me I looked awful, he'd definitely already said as much or worse to his doctor. Doolittle couldn't have looked more exhausted if he'd been made his lordship's sparring partner.

"Let's get the Q and A over with. Where am I?" He gave me a weary smile. "I assume I'm in the Keep but I've never been anywhere this…" I gestured at the canopy attached to the frankly enormous four-poster bed I was in. The rest of the furniture was just as overtly feminine, with the single exception of the flat-screen TV. "Does shapeshifter Barbie want her room back?" Julie managed a little laugh but Doolittle just looked uncomfortable. What had I blundered into now? "Whose room is this? Did Curran kick somebody out?"

"It's Curran's spare room." That made no sense. Every empty bedroom in the Keep was Curran's spare room…unless Julie knew something I didn't. I gave Doolittle my 'tell me what you know and you might survive' glare. It was probably less effective coming from somebody in their sickbed.

"This is where His Majesty's female guests sleep." By female guests he meant the never ending parade of beautiful women Curran entertained himself with, and now he'd put me in the same damn room. Arrogant, presumptuous bastard.

"I am not convalescing in the Beast Lord's love nest." No fucking way.

"He gave specific orders…you'll have to take that up with him."

"Believe me I will." Doolittle's sigh spoke volumes. I must have been one of his most troublesome patients, which was saying something.

"Would you like to know how you got here or should I skip straight to describing how you nearly died this time?"

"Might as well do it properly. How'd I get from my house to this sugar-coated slut hut?"

"You were carried…" don't say it Doolittle, "by our lord." I grimaced. The good doctor merely widened his smile. It wasn't funny this time but I seemed to be the only one who knew that. "He carried you from you house to the Pack jeep, then from the car park to the medward, then from there to here." Smirking the whole time I bet. Nobody did infuriatingly smug like Curran. Part of it was the cat thing, part was being as powerful as he was, but mostly it was because he was an ass.

"So," I began, intent on changing the subject, "hydrogen cyanide…"

"Yes. Whoever your attackers were they wanted you dead and His Majesty incapacitated at the very least. And they very nearly succeeded. By the time you got to me you were in a coma. Tech was still up so I had to use sodium thiosulfate and vitamin B12a, all well and good for shapeshifters and moderate exposure in humans…but you don't know the meaning of moderation." That was me, all or nothing.

"Prognosis?"

"You'll make a fully recovery eventually…but only because magic hit ten minutes after I got to you. I cast so many healing spells that I needed medical attention myself." Damn.

"Do I say sorry?"

"No, you didn't make me do it." We both knew who did though.

"You should be out of bed later today. Walking is possible, but not far. I've told the guards at the end of the hall not to let you pass…and I should warn you that His Majesty has added his authority to my own in all matters relating to your health."

"So I'm a prisoner, wonderful."

"I'm not about to let you push yourself too far and collapse on the stairs. We're on the top floor, that's a lot of stairs to fall down. There will always be somebody within earshot if you need anything."

"Anything except privacy and freedom."

"There is a lock on the door that, to my knowledge, has never been broken…by anybody. You'd be too weak to take advantage of freedom if you had it, but privacy might be doable." Until I annoyed his High(handed)ness enough to kick the damn door down.

"Thanks." There was one more thing left in the little routine Doolittle and I had got into. Curran. I usually asked how he'd injured himself saving my ass. Was I pathetic for still not wanting to see him hurt by anybody other than me…maybe. Was I going to find out how he was anyway? You betcha.

"Julie said Curran was shot."

"He was. While he was carrying you out your back door, so I'm told." Kill me now.

"Badly?" Dumb question. How did you not get badly shot? Nobody had ever had a gunshot wound that just tickled a bit.

"I took six bullets out of his back after I'd done what I could for you."

Crap. While six normal rounds wouldn't have caused Curran any lasting damage, in the short term they had to hurt like hell.

"And he breathed in more cyanide than I did."

"Yes. Fortunately he has a remarkably strong constitution…" That and he was a stubborn son of a bitch who refused to die out of sheer pig-headedness. "And I decided to set out and meet you halfway when George described the scents in the air."

"Bitter almonds."

"While you will most likely need to take it easy for at least a week, His Majesty was right as rain after a cup of tea." The knot loosened until I could barely feel it.

"So he's ok?" The door swung open and the topic of conversation strode in looking as whole and distractingly attractive as normal. Derek followed soon after.

The Beast Lord gifted me with an infuriatingly serene smile. Evidently his anger evaporated once he got his way and his smug superiority returned. Either that or he had a damn unusual reaction to cyanide.

"You concern for my wellbeing is touching." Come close enough your Majesty and I'll touch your face with my fist. My right hand twitched as my anger, conditioned to reach for a weapon. I didn't know where Slayer was. I felt incredibly vulnerable, and, weirdly, like a limb had been amputated. I always had a weapon within reach, always. I got increasingly tense as the moments ticked by. Derek noticed the thickening atmosphere first, flicking his eyes from me to Curran warily, but said nothing. Doolittle however looked like a stiff breeze would knock him on his ass and wasted no time in making his excuses. I didn't blame him. I didn't want to be there either.

"My Lord, if my services are no longer required…"

"You may leave." Curran didn't even look at Doolittle as he dismissed him, he just kept his eyes on me. Arrogant swine.

The door shut behind the doctor with a discrete click and Curran's posture changed to 'off-duty'. He hadn't got to impress or intimidate anybody in the room. Julie and I weren't Pack and Derek worshipped the ground he walked on. It was a subtle change but he was slightly more relaxed. It would make it all the more surprising if he went from calm to homicidal rage between one heartbeat and the next.

Curran sat on the sofa by Julie and put his feet up on the edge of the bed. At least somebody was comfortable.

"There's French toast downstairs. Absolutely delicious." That was just sadistic. Curran knew damn well that healing spells made you hungry, with the number that Doolittle had performed on me I was tempted to gnaw on the furniture. It was bound to contain some sugar as sickly sweet as the room was.

I wasn't the only one scowling at him though. My kid was catching on fast.

"You can go a while without sleep or without food, but not without both." The scowl faded as she worked through the logic of the situation, mine deepened when I realised she'd deprived herself of rest and food while I was out of it. I highly doubted there was anything Derek could have said or done to get her to eat if she was set against it…but Derek was no master manipulator. Enter the Beast Lord, stage right.

If she had breakfast she'd be gone for half an hour at most, if she put her head down somewhere, nobody would disturb her and she would miss anything that happened in the next few hours while she caught up on her sleep. Julie huffed as she realised Curran had out-manoeuvred her; it was a feeling she'd get used to. Not that I spoke from experience, it still irritated the hell out of me.

"Go on kitten, Derek will keep you company." Kitten? Since when did Curran have a pet name for my kid? And she wasn't calling him on it. What the hell kind of deal had they made while I was busy being unconscious?

Julie got up, gave me a hug and walked through the door boy wonder had chivalrously held open for her.

There I was again, alone with the Beast Lord.

Wasn't this how all the bloody trouble had started?

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